Beach Huts

A house a house, a mortgage for my life,

Devoid of divorce - beach hut for my wife!

To the beaches we lay claim

Just a towel to hide our shame,

They got there first - it must be theirs!

Where else can I go sit in chairs

And study sand and sea and stone,

Without the ring of dog and bone?

Side by side cheery rainbowed timbers hide,

At best a sinking sense of fallen pride,

As inside the naked change -

To bless the beach with flesh arranged,

And from the ships what do they see?

If they are there then where are we?

Who sees the least and what’s to say

The view’s not best the other way?

©Philip Holden

2003

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